Kevin Miller - Raven One

From his perch at the end of the angled deck, Wilson saw Valley Forge’s bow cut into the Strait of Hormuz, the sea flaring out into a large wave that emanated from the hull and crashed over itself, leaving a frothy white blanket on the water as the ship sped past. He thought of how American Navy ships, and the waters they visited, had changed over the ages. The Navy’s mission, however, remained the same: prompt and sustained combat operations at sea.

Wilson went below to his stateroom. The first thing he looked at was his laptop. As he had hoped, a new e-mail, a long one from Mary, waited for him.

Dear James,

I miss you very, very much and so do Derrick and Brittany. When I heard about the crash the other day, I was just sick about it. Stephanie told me Bob was the pilot and is okay. I’m so glad he’s okay, but what happened? She said it was at night with rain and lightning. Why don’t you just stop when it’s bad outside? Can you advise the Skipper to stop flying? Bob’s girlfriend Meagan just flipped out — she comes across as this sweet-as-she-can-be sorority girl, but when Billie Lassiter called to tell her about the crash, she just blew up and snapped at Billie because Billie didn’t know the answers to all her questions. She wanted Bob to come home and when Billie said that was not going to happen, she went off about how dumb the Navy was and why is an aircraft carrier involved with a land war — a war she hates, etc. She called back to apologize to Billie the next day, saying she’s new to this and loves Bob so much. Billie is a saint, having to put up with this chick — who is not even a wife yet! I used to wish they had gotten married before the cruise, but now I’m not so sure. She said the pressure of him being gone one month is getting to her. I say she doesn’t know the half of it.

Wilson saw where this was going, and, with the AOM in twenty minutes, he knew better than to continue reading. Yet, he couldn’t help himself.

Sometimes I just don’t know why you go on these cruises. Isn’t it enough that you’ve already been on four cruises? And each one was a combat cruise, even before 9-11. I counted last week — in our nine years of marriage, you’ve been gone almost four years, counting the cruises, workups, and detachments. When you return in May, you’ll have been gone 20 of the last 36 months. Haven’t you — we — given enough to our country? I’m proud of you, James, and I know you are a good pilot and do a great job of teaching the new guys and keeping them out of trouble. You are now, and always will be, my hero! But does it always have to be you? Can’t someone else step up? Unless they do, all I can see is more of the same for years to come.

After you leave VFA-64, you’ll get that admiral’s aide job you want, and after we move to Washington, you’ll be working all day. And once again, you’ll be gone on travel with the admiral, and I’ll be stuck in a new and expensive town, not knowing anyone, with two little kids. Then you’ll get command, and we’ll move again back here, or to Lemoore, or Japan, and like everything else, it will probably be “get here right now.” When the war started, you flew back here to join the squadron. Then I drove from Fallon across the country by myself with a two-year-old, found a house, and moved us in while you did shock-and-awe over Baghdad on CNN. I am not going to do that again.

James, I look at Billie Lassiter and think, do I want that? Not only does she take care of her own houseful alone, but she has to put up with bitchy wives — and now girlfriends — as she leads our support group. She does it with a smile, and I do admire her because she is doing it with no help because your XO doesn’t have a wife. But I’m not sure that I can do it or want to do it.

And after command, there will more moves into key 12 hour-a-day jobs and then CAG, with more deployments, and then admiral… The point is, we’ll never see you. Your kids will grow up and graduate from college, and you won’t be there. Do all of us have to pay the price?

Wilson inhaled deep and exhaled long. Mary must have had this building up inside her for months or years. She was not prone to emotional outbursts in e-mails or letters. Sponge’s mishap must have been the catalyst. The next part hit him hard.

It kills me that you have missed so much of Derrick and Brit growing up. You are a wonderful father and have so much fun with them — when you are home. They miss you, Derrick especially. He’s enjoying first grade and he’s really doing well. Many of the dads in his class (and one mom — ugh) are Navy and deployed, but when they have parent events like the Thanksgiving pageant, it’s so nice to see the dads there. Derrick said he wished you could have seen him. (He was the Pilgrim leader.) By the time this cruise is over, you will have missed Thanksgiving, Christmas, and then Easter… all the big family holidays, not to mention my family reunion in August while you were on workups. In fact, you have missed half of Brittany’s life. It is not fair to the kids that their father is gone so much of the time — by choice.

James, I need you too. Not only to help with them but as a woman. I knew you were a Navy pilot when I met you, and I went into this marriage with my eyes open, but after nine years the reality is I have a part-time husband. I want a full-time husband at home and in my bed. I’m lonely, and a future Navy career means more loneliness. Haven’t I supported you through your service to our country? I love you for that and America owes you and everyone out there everything. You, and I, have given so much. Can’t someone else step up and save the world? You have lived your dream, and every time you go out, you come back with more medals. At what point is enough, enough? Is it worth sacrificing your family?

This is not an ultimatum. I know we’ve got five more months ahead of us. But you need to know what it’s like for me, and I want you to give this serious thought. With your talents I know you can get a good job that will allow us to live as a family. Lots of our friends are airline pilots, and your brother has a good job in Chesapeake. You can fly for the naval reserves, can’t you? That seems like a good balance. You’ve done much more than your share, and have nothing to be ashamed of. Come back to me, James.

I love you so much, and pray for you every day.

Love always,

Mary

Wilson sat back and propped up his chin with his fingers, reeling from her words. He stared at Mary’s Strike Fighter Ball picture, a photo taken about four years earlier. He thought of their years together as he studied her face and her gorgeous smile. She has not changed from the day I first laid eyes on her, he thought.

Or had she? She was older, and in his mind’s eye, he studied the face of the woman who dropped him off at Oceana four weeks ago. It was a long morning, the culmination of what to Wilson always felt like the countdown to a death sentence. It began two weeks before each deployment. Two weeks to go. Ten days to go. Four days. Tomorrow. Two hours. Fifteen minutes. Wilson remembered standing next to the hangar gate in his flight suit as he watched Mary pull the minivan out of the parking lot that morning. His heart begged her to look at him and wave one last time. Instead, she drove off without a glance. That face, discounting the puffiness around her eyes as she had hugged and kissed him goodbye moments earlier, had lines in it. Lines he and his profession had put there over the years.

Then he remembered the glimpse through the tinted back window of little Derrick from his car seat. As Mary made the turn onto 1 stStreet, Derrick lifted his hand to wave. Wilson fought to keep his composure as they faded from view. Then he turned to salute the gate sentry and walked toward the hangar to get ready for the flight that would begin his fifth deployment. And Mary was right. It was a deployment he wanted to be part of.